Calculated Fury
by Sydelle Rein
Summary: Fury destroys lives. It clouds judgement, ruins friendships, and can make a person do horrible things he may regret for the rest of his life. Merlin was always taught to control his temper, and taught never to enrage anyone else if he could help it. But this time, fury was the only tool he had to save his king. Whatever it took, he would save Arthur.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Why is it that every time my fics seem to double in length of what I originally planned? This was meant to be a two-shot originally, then quickly got out of hand….sigh. Oh well. Yay for more to read! (At least I hope that's how you feel about my fics…)**

**So! COUNTDOWN TO SERIES 5! Here is a brand new fic. Completely unrelated to any of my others. The whole thing will be posted before the first episode of season five this Saturday. I've been working on it gradually, off and on between working on my other fics. Hope you like it! **

**~Syd**

**((Edit: Um….Ok, so apparently there's been a change since the last time I checked and Merlin doesn't actually start until NEXT Saturday.**

**NOOOOOOOOOO!**

**Ok. Done with random freakout. Well, this fic will be entirely posted before NEXT Saturday, then. I'll spread out the updates a tad to make the countdown more…official. The timing won't be nearly as perfect, but oh well.**

**WHY BBC?! WHY! D: ))**

**Calculated Fury**

Chapter One

They stood there, staring down the gorge to the river that ran far below. Merlin could feel Arthur's head pull back as he looked across the gorge to the opposite side, then down again to the river. Merlin looked up as well, and knew exactly what Arthur was thinking.

Arthur could make the jump. Merlin could not.

Merlin's breath hitched. He knew what had to happen. He also knew that Arthur would never agree. But it was the only option.

Merlin swallowed hard. "Go," he said firmly. He pulled his arm from Arthur's shoulder and limped a few yards away. Arthur didn't respond, he didn't stop him moving. He just continued to stare between the gorge and the opposite side. "Go!" Merlin shouted at him.

"No!" Arthur's eyes snapped to Merlin's, furious that he would even suggest such a thing. He looked back. "We'll keep moving. There's got to be a way to cross farther down. We'll make it."

Merlin shook his head. "They're not that far behind us. I'm slowing you down. If we stay together, we both die. If you go—"

"I am _not_ leaving you to die." He strode forward and grabbed Merlin's arm, pulling it around his shoulders again to help him hobble on, but Merlin would have none of it.

Merlin had been contemplating his options during their whole escape, in case the likely event of a fight became inevitable. And the truth was, he could think of no way out. If he had his magic it would be different, he could take them. He'd have to reveal what he was in the process, but they would make it out alive. But the potion weighed heavily in his stomach as an unpleasant reminder of his handicap. Which meant, quite simply, that if Arthur stayed, odds were significantly high that he would die. Merlin couldn't count on being able to protect him. The knights wouldn't suspect anything for at least another day and a half, and who knows how long it would take for them to find them after that.

Arthur would be dead long before help arrived—killed not by any powerful, magical foe, but by a stupid band of mercenaries that had been paid far too much for the pleasure.

"You _have_ to live," Merlin insisted. "If you die, Camelot dies with you."

"Don't be absurd, Merlin. I'm not going to die, because we're going to get out of this. Now come _on_!"Merlin took a deliberate step away.

"No." He said firmly. "I'm staying put."

"Damn it, Merlin! This is not the time to be a stubborn idiot!"

Merlin's mind reeled. Arthur wouldn't leave. Merlin knew that. They were too close. Arthur could never abandon his friend to die. Merlin looked in the direction he knew their pursuers would be coming from. He knew what he had to do. But that did not mean it was going to be easy.

Merlin gritted his teeth, forcing the words out. "I'm a warlock!" he shouted.

Arthur froze at the words, but his shock faded quite quickly, and an urgent irritation filled its place. "Merlin, you're being an idiot, and it's not going to work. I know you're not a sorcerer. Now let's go!" He once again moved to help Merlin hobble away, but he never got the change to touch him.

Merlin threw out his hand, and with a flash of his eyes, Arthur skidded along the ground several feet, arms instinctively coming up to block an invisible force. When he lowered his arms, he stared, mouth gaping like a fish. Merlin fought the wave of dizziness that overcame him. It had taken tremendous effort to overcome the potion for that brief moment. He doubted he could do it again.

"I'm not a sorcerer," Merlin agreed, his tone turning naturally dark as a lump grew in his throat. "I said, I'm a warlock."

Arthur continued to stare, mouth gaping, arms still partially raised. "How—?" he asked at last, but he didn't complete the question. He put both his hands to his head, turned and walked several feet before turning around and walking back. "Ok." He said, in that tone of voice he used when trying to solve an impossible problem in a very small amount of time. "We're going to follow this gorge until we find a place to cross or a place to hide. Then we're going back to Camelot. I don't know what the _hell_ you were thinking dabbling in this stuff, but it _ends._ It ends _now_. No one will ever know. Things will go back to normal."

Merlin wanted to scream. Arthur was such a _clot pole!_ This wasn't something he could just "fix" and pretend never happened!

But it gave him a way out. Merlin could do it. They could go back to Camelot. He could pretend to have given up magic—that he had just been experimenting. Things could never go back to normal, but they could pretend.

For how long?

But no. They'd never make it back to Camelot. The mercenaries would find them long before they made it. Merlin would be forced to fight them anyways. He would fail, and Arthur would die.

"You're such a fool," Merlin said quietly, forcing a small smile to his lips. "I've been practicing magic long before I came to Camelot." He had to do this. He had to make Arthur hate him. It was the only way.

Arthur shook his head. "No. No you wouldn't..."

"I told you the first day we met I could take you apart with less than one blow." Arthur's eyes grew even rounder as he remembered. He opened his mouth to utter another protest, but no sound came out. "Did you think it was a coincidence I became your manservant so soon after arriving in Camelot?"

"You're lying…"

Merlin swallowed around the lump in his throat. This next piece of information would seal it. He knew. "I knew about Morgana." Pure silence met his words. Once again Arthur opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. "I knew about her magic years before she openly turned against us."

"You…you never said…"

"Of course I didn't," Merlin answered automatically. "Why would I betray her? Two magical people living in secret under the rule of a sadistic king? I suppose you could say we're kinsmen." He paused. "Oh, and speaking of kinsmen, I also knew she was your sister."

Arthur's jaw was clenched, the vein in his neck throbbing. The shock was wearing off, and cold fury was taking its place.

"You bastard!" In an instant Arthur's sword was in his hand. It shook as Arthur's arm trembled. "You…you lying magical bastard!" He leapt forward, bringing his sword back to ram into his traitorous servant.

Merlin, knowing this was a horrible idea, again forcibly pushed out with his magic while he stepped aside. Arthur was forced to drop the suddenly red-hot metal mid-strike.

"You can't defeat me," Merlin informed him, stretching himself up tall, despite his injured leg, spinning head, and churning stomach. "But I'm done with you. Leave now before I change my mind about letting you live."

Arthur practically snarled at him, but the snarl faded and a blank look passed over his face. "You wouldn't."

"Of course I—"

"No," Arthur interrupted, standing up straight again, continuing to stare blankly at the person in front of him. "You really wouldn't. You're not a killer. I know that much. You can't even pretend to be one."

"You don't know anything about me!" Merlin shouted. Why did Arthur seem determined to see the good in him at the worst possible moment?

"That's your plan," Arthur said quietly, sounding like he'd finally figured it out. "You're trying to _make_ me abandon you."

"Don't be ridicu—"

"If you wanted to kill me you'd have done it already!" Arthur interrupted. Merlin had to admit he had a point.

"You want to know why I didn't?" Merlin finally snapped. "I needed you alive."

"Why?" Arthur demanded.

"To bring you to my side. To warp you into the king my people need, a king who would turn on his father's ideals and bring magic back where it belongs! For years I bided my time, waiting for the ideal moment to kill Uther and raise _you_ up in his place. But you will _never_ be the king we need. You're a _coward._ Manipulative is an admirable quality for my purpose, but no one so spineless can make the changes I need."

Arthur shook his head violently. "You're lying…" he said again, weakly. "You're…you're too much of an idiot to be an inside traitor."

"Then let me ask you this," Merlin's heart screamed for him to stop, but he forced the most damning words passed his lips, "did you ever figure out why Dragoon seemed so familiar?"

There was a moment of confusion, and then Arthur appeared to go numb. No emotion floated across his face, his body just went slack, giving up a battle. At that moment, Merlin knew that he had succeeded.

"It was you," Arthur said softly. "I never saw the two of you together. All this time…it's been you all along." His face slowly morphed into resigned betrayal. "_You_ killed my father."

Merlin fought the tightness in his throat in desperation. He couldn't trust himself to speak, so he merely put on another sadistic grin and nodded his confirmation.

Arthur opened and closed his mouth several times, searching for something else to say, grasping for some slight possibility that this was all a huge misunderstanding…But then, the sound of their pursuers reached their ears, and both heads turned to the tree line. Blood rushed in Merlin's ears. They were running out of time! Arthur had to leave _now!_ Or all this would have been for nothing!

He needn't have worried. Some quick steps and a heavy thud made Merlin turn his head back to Arthur—except Arthur wasn't there anymore.

Quickly, Arthur regained his feet on the opposite side of the gorge, staring at Merlin with an intense hurt and hatred. Merlin stared back, silently willing Arthur to leave—to save himself. At last, Arthur turned and sprinted away, just as the first of the mercenaries broke into sight.

Merlin turned to meet his fate.

**A/N: Dun, dun, **_**DUN!**_** Hope you all liked it. Please leave a review and let me know what you think!**

**~Syd**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Wow. GREAT response to the first chapter! I'm so glad you guys are liking this so much! Thanks so much for your wonderful support! Hope you like the rest as much as the beginning.**

**~Syd**

Chapter Two

Arthur almost didn't make it back to Camelot. Filled with dark thoughts of anger and betrayal, it took him a long time to realize he was going the wrong way, longer still to find enough energy to _care_ and to alter his course, and a tremendous effort to avoid various cliffs that he swore came out of _nowhere—_not to mention an assortment of creatures and large tree roots that seemed determined to fell him in his distracted state.

Eventually, he returned with several bruises and scratches, a seriously twisted left wrist, and an even fowler mood.

Not pausing for even an instant, he stormed through the castle and burst through a door.

"_Did you know?"_ he demanded immediately.

Gaius jumped remarkably high for his old age in his surprise. "Sire?" he asked in utter confusion.

"_Did you know!"_ Arthur repeated.

"Woa, princess, calm down," Arthur's head snapped to the side, and only then did he realize that Gwaine was there, sitting on a stool. A nasty looking cut above his right eyebrow explained easily why he was in the physician's chambers. "Take a breath and—"

"I will _not_ take a breath!" the king shouted. An aching sorrow had taken root inside him, and the only way for him to deal with it was to mask it in rage. "I'm tired of being lied to! I'm sick of betrayal! First Morgana, then Agravaine, now _him!"_

"Me?" Gaius asked, his surprise obvious.

"_No!"_ Arthur shouted again. _"Merlin!"_

Even in his blind rage, Arthur noticed the look of horror that passed between Gwaine and Gaius.

"Sire, what are you talking about?" Gaius asked, voice forcibly calm.

Gwaine stood up. "I'd like to know that, too," he commented, eyes hard. "Arthur have you lost your mind? Merlin's the most idiotically loyal—"

"He's a BLOODY SORCERER!"

Gaius's face paled, and Arthur rounded on him instantly.

"You _did _know!" he accused. "You knew he was a traitor! You knew all along and you said _nothing! _I should have you arrested!"

"Sire," Gaius said sternly, pale face of shocked fear fading to be replaced with a grim determination. "I don't know what's happened, but Merlin is _not_ a traitor."

Arthur felt his knees go weak as utter sorrow briefly shown through his anger. But a moment later, he once more masked his pain and let the fury fill him.

"Hetold me everything Gaius. He _told_ me he's been manipulating me. He _told_ me he waited for his opportune moment, and that _he _is the one who killed my father!" A gasp of shock escaped from Gwaine, but Arthur ignored him.

Gaius, on the other hand, grew strangely quiet. "He said he's been _manipulating_ you?" he repeated, as though unsure of what he had heard. Arthur did not notice that Uther's death—what should have been a more shocking revelation—did not even phase the physician.

"Yes," Arthur said firmly. "Right after he blasted me several feet with magic. So I ask you again, _did you know?"_

There was a long, heavy moment of silence between the three people in the room. "Arthur…" Gaius said at last. "I…knew of his magic," he confessed at last. Gwaine's head snapped to him in shock at the truth of Arthur's accusation. "But Merlin is _not_ a traitor," he said firmly. "He values your life even above his own."

And Arthur realized that Gaius at least believed what he was saying. So Gaius hadn't known. Not everything, at least. If he had, he'd either have confessed to both sets of knowledge, or neither. Arthur could forgive Gaius for being fooled. Hadn't he, also, been fooled? But now, Gaius had to know the truth.

"You're wrong, Gaius. I'd never have believed it either, but Merlin confessed."

"Why would he confess to something like that?" Gwaine interrupted.

"How should I know!" Arthur demanded. "One moment I was dragging his worthless weight as we ran away from those mercenaries, and the next he was bragging about how much of a fool I am and warning me to run away before he changed his mind and decided to kill me!"

Both Gaius and Gwaine gave a sharp intake of breath. And Arthur was glad that at last his message seemed to be sinking in to those thick skulls of theirs.

"Mercenaries?" Gaius repeated. "And he made you leave him?"

"What do you mean you were dragging his weight?" Gwaine demanded.

"He hurt his stupid ankle! And I had this stupid ideato _help_ the traitorous idiot!"

"This was before he told you of his manipulations?" Gaius asked steadily.

"Yes!" Arthur shouted, wondering why they were still asking such pointless questions. What could it change, when he said what?

Searing pain shot through his jaw and he felt a sickening crunch as his head snapped to the side. Arthur landed on the ground with a heavy, stunned thud and looked up at a seething Gwaine who still had his fist partially raised.

"You _idiot!" _Gwaine shouted, trembling. "Don't you see what he _did?"_

Arthur, too stunned to move, merely stared silently up at the towering knight, head pounding.

"_He protected you!_ He made you hate him so you would leave him and escape!"

Arthur bit the inside of his lip against the pain and shook his head firmly. That's exactly what he had thought at first. But Merlin had been quick to dash that hope. "You're wrong," he insisted firmly. He would not allow himself to hope again. The sting would hurt so much worse when the illusion shattered. Merlin was a traitor.

"He _protected _you and you left him at the mercy of vicious mercenaries!"

Arthur jumped to his feet. "He's a _sorcerer_ Gwaine," he reminded the knight. "I highly doubt a bunch of over-paid bandits are going to be a match for him. And if he _was_ protecting me, why didn't he just turn and fight them!"

"_You're_ the one who's always complaining about how incompetent Merlin is at everything!" Gwaine shouted. "Did it ever occur to you that maybe he's just not that _good_ at magic?"

Arthur froze at those words. A tiny bubble of doubt took seed in the pit of his stomach.

Gaius, who had been strangely silent throughout the entire exchange, at last commented. "Merlin is more powerful than you can possibly imagine." Both Gwaine and Arthur stared at him.

Well…that supported Arthur's argument, the king realized. But he didn't want to be right. And immediately he berated himself for allowing that tiny hope to linger as the full sting returned.

For once, he wanted Gwaine to be right. He wanted them both to be right—that Merlin was still a friend, that he had just been protecting Arthur. Because if he was, then Arthur hadn't been a fool, then maybe Merlin had been every bit the friend that Arthur had thought he was.

"Merlin told you a partial truth," Gaius continued, looking steadily at Arthur. "He is the one who ultimately killed Uther. But that was _never_ his intention."

Arthur's eyebrows knit together as he fought the warring emotions inside of him. "But if he's so cursed powerful, he _could_ have healed him!" he pointed out. "Like I _asked_ him to!"

"He is not infallible, Arthur!" Gaius scolded. "Morgana had enchanted a pendant I found on your father's neck. We suspect Agravaine put it there. It _reversed_ Merlin's healing magic, turning against your father and killing him." He paused for a long, terrible moment. "I cannot tell you how much Merlin has hated himself since that day."

And that made sense. It made sense that Morgana and Agravaine were responsible. It made sense that Merlin had been trying to help. But Arthur couldn't let himself believe, couldn't let himself hope. The consequence of being wrong…of fooling himself again…was just too much for his heart to bear.

"Then why didn't he _fight?_" he asked Gaius, almost desperately.

"He probably would have," Gaius answered, "if he thought there was any chance of you both making it out alive."

And Arthur's stomach turned to lead. He had not thought of that. He had not thought of that _at all._ He thought he'd left a traitor behind, but even so, he never considered he might be leaving Merlin to his death.

And if Gaius and Gwaine were right about Merlin's loyalties?

What had Arthur done…

"But…but _you said…_" Arthur stumbled desperately, "you said he's powerful…"

"He is," Gaius continued. "But there are ways to suppress someone's magic, through other magical means—usually by putting something in their body. Arthur, did they feed Merlin anything? Or give him anything to drink?"

Arthur shook his head and took a step back, but more in defiance of his own memories than answer to the question. Gaius, however, interpreted that as an answer and continued. "Did they do anything else? Maybe sew something into his skin, like stitches? Or maybe—"

"They forced him to drink," Arthur muttered at last. Gaius and Gwaine froze at his statement.

Without another word, Gwaine stormed towards the exit.

"Where are you going?" Gaius demanded.

"Where do you think? I'm going to find Merlin. If he's still alive, I'm going to help him. And I'm going to bring him back."

"How do you expect to find him?" Arthur demanded.

Gwaine glared daggers at him. "You came back from the west, so that's the way I'll go. And Arthur you'd better hope he's alive. Because if you left him to die, I will _never_ forgive you." With that, he slammed the door shut.

"What happened when he drank?"

It took Arthur's hazy mind a moment to interpret Gaius's question and remember what they'd just been talking about.

"He…he fought it," Arthur said at last. "He tried so hard not to swallow, but they made him. I—I didn't think…"

"Did it cause him pain?" Gaius asked.

Arthur swallowed hard. "Yes," he said at last. "Yes it did…"

"How did he seem after?"

Arthur shook his head again. "It's…it's not true…" he muttered. Merlin wasn't innocent. He hadn't left his best friend to die for nothing. It couldn't be true.

Gauis seemed to realize he would get no further information from the king, and instead turned to the vast shelves of pots and vials and began looking through them.

"What are you doing?" Arthur asked.

"If—_When_ Merlin comes back, he's going to need treatment." He poured some sort of leaves from a jar into a bowl and began crushing them. "At the very least, I'll need to find a way to get that potion out of his system."

"But…" Arthur didn't know if he could say it out loud. If he said it out loud, it would give solidity to the thought that he feared more than anything. "But what if he…"

"Until I know for certain that he is dead, I will act as though he is alive," Gaius said firmly, resolutely not looking at Arthur as he poured some sort of liquid over the now crushed leaves.

Arthur rubbed his still aching jaw, feeling the bruise already forming, and wondered slightly if it was fractured.

Though in all honesty, he knew he deserved much worse.

Arthur hadn't thought his heart could sink any further when he'd realized the fullness of Merlin's betrayal. But realizing the fullness of his own was so much worse.

**A/N: Well, I eagerly await reading what you all think. And nope! Not over yet. :) So? Did you like it? Are you mad at Arthur? Feeling sorry for him? What do you think happened to poor Merlin?**

**~Syd**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: One person expressed concerns about me having multiple ongoing stories at once. Don't worry. CF has been written in little pieces now and then during my writer block moments for my others, it's actually complete. So I really only have IG and OWS ongoing right now. And I'm just having some issues with them…I'm hoping to get back on those fairly pronto.**

**~Syd**

Chapter Three

It was not long after Gwaine left that Arthur realized what he had to do. He gathered his trusted knights—Leon, Elyan, Percival, and Tristan—and followed Gwaine into the west, looking for any sign of the black-haired secret warlock—though that last part Arthur had kept to himself, for now.

It took a much longer time than Arthur had anticipated to find the place he had last seen Merlin, but when they came to the gorge, Arthur's draw dropped in shock.

Tying his horse to a nearby tree, Arthur took a running leap and landed on the opposite side, soon followed by the others. Dumbfounded, he leaned down in one of the craters and fingered the black, scorched earth. The others searched the surrounding area. When Arthur looked up again, Percival was inspecting the broken remains of a battleaxe, Elyan was in a similar position to Arthur—inspecting another blackened crater—and Leon and Tristan merely stood there, taking in the scene as a whole.

Despite the obvious signs of a rather violent—and magical—struggle, there were no bodies to be seen.

There were also no signs of Merlin.

Had Merlin done this? Arthur had to wonder. But he'd drunk that potion, wasn't it supposed to suppress his magic? Had Merlin managed to fight despite of it?

Well…Gaius had said he was more powerful than Arthur could possibly imagine…Seeing the evidence, however, was more than a bit unnerving. Arthur swallowed hard.

But if this _was _his work…if he had _fought?_ Then maybe…just maybe he was still alive. Somehow, the magic seemed so insignificant in comparison.

A rustle in the brush made all five of them spin towards the sound and unsheathe their swords in an instant. But a moment later they resheathed their weapons as Gwaine came into view.

Gwaine did not seem all that surprised to see them there, but even so, he refused to look at Arthur. "No sign of him," he told the group in general. "There are several pairs of footprints that lead off in that direction," he jerked his thumb over his shoulder, "but they vanish. Nothing to follow."

They combed the area, anyways. Gwaine was right—the only set of footprints that led away from the scene vanished some fifty feet into the trees, and nothing else gave any indication that anyone had walked away from whatever battle had taken place. The longer they stayed, it became increasingly obvious they would find nothing, and Arthur's heart sank further into the depths of his own despair.

When the sun began to set, Leon made the mistake of suggesting they return to the castle. Both Arthur and Gwaine instantly snapped at him, and Arthur declared that they would not return until they had found Merlin.

After two days of searching and eating off the land, Arthur finally had to admit that they should return home—if only to gather supplies for a more extended search.

After three weeks of said extended search, Arthur at last admitted—if only to himself—the futility of this search. If Merlin was dead, there was nothing they could do. If he was alive…he obviously did not want to be found. And so they returned home after all—just as Merlin-less as they had been upon departure.

Gwaine didn't speak to Arthur throughout the entirety of their search.

.~.

It came as little surprise to Arthur when Gwaine at last came to speak to him, only to formally announce his leaving Camelot. Arthur could not blame him. It was clear that Gwaine still held Arthur responsible for Merlin's disappearance, and the knight simply could not bear to be in service to such a king any longer.

That very evening, Gwaine was gone.

Gaius did not know how to contact Merlin. Or at least, he claimed he didn't. Arthur wasn't entirely sure if that was true or not, as he could sense that he had also lost a part of Gaius's trust. The physician however, unlike Gwaine, never so much as hinted of leaving, or of blame. Neither, however, did he hint of forgiveness.

Arthur did his best to continue life as normally as he could. He refused to get another servant, but the castle staff seemed to know that was just stubbornness. So somehow he still had hot meals delivered, clean armor, clean stables, and everything else that Merlin used to accomplish. He just never saw who did it. More than likely it was a series of different servants.

Gwen was, of course, devastated at Merlin's disappearance. It was a long time before Arthur was finally able to confess to her the horrible betrayal he had committed. For days, Guinevere couldn't look at him without bursting in to tears. But then she was back. She claimed she never really blamed Arthur, that she had just been processing.

Again, Arthur wasn't sure if he believed her.

Arthur tried to keep himself busy. He certainly had plenty of duties to attend to. But he could never keep himself busy enough to block out the painful memories. Eventually, he quit trying to altogether. When that happened, he found himself at Gaius's door.

He knocked softly before opening the door. "Gaius?"

The physician was sitting by the window, reading a book by the light of the setting sun. "Sire," he greeted shortly. "Is there something I can do for you?"

Arthur hesitated. Maybe this was a bad idea. But he wanted to know. It had been over a month since Merlin's disappearance, and he still knew _nothing. _Why magic? Why Camelot? So many questions spun through the king's head.

"I was...hoping you could help me understand," he said at last. Gaius's eyebrow rose in confusion, but when it became clear that Arthur was not going to elaborate he bowed his head in sudden understanding, and he nodded.

So that was how Arthur came to be sitting cross legged in front of the physician—much as he had done when he was a child begging Gaius for another story, as his own father never read to him—hearing stories about all Merlin had done since coming to Camelot.

The stories sobered him, and crushed the guilt even deeper into his soul.

Night after night he kept returning, each night hearing another story. Some nights the stories truly amazed and humbled him—like the story of the Questing Beast, and any of the stories where Merlin fought silently against Morgana. Other nights the stories were much more in line with the Merlin he knew, albeit a magical one, such as how he managed to let the goblin loose in the castle, or how he cheated on his chores with magic despite all of Gaius's warnings.

He thought Gaius would run out of stories after a week or so. Yet a month later, the stories kept coming.

It was at the end of the second month that Gwaine returned. If anyone asked him why, he just said that he missed Camelot and came back. But to Arthur he gave the real reason.

"Merlin gave everything to protect you," he told Arthur the night of his return. "As little as you deserve it, he'd want me here, protecting you while he can't. So I came back."

A cold civility remained between them from that moment on, but it was a step forward from the silence.

.~.

Not long after Gwaine returned, Arthur got his first hint that something strange was going on.

In a none-too-rare moment of frustration with himself, Arthur abandoned his kingly duties for an afternoon, snuck out of the castle, and went into the woods with nothing but his crossbow in hand and sword on his hip to work out his frustration with some hunting. Alone.

It was not the first time he snuck out for a solitary hunt. Oddly enough, these hunts only ever managed to aggravate him further. Far from calming him and helping him forget, every snapped tree twig, soft "twang" of the bow string, or thud of a bird or a hare hitting the ground made him remember all the more vividly.

Snapped twig. Merlin would have stepped on at least twelve by now.

Bow string. Merlin would avert his eyes from the kill, and Arthur would pretend not to notice.

Thud of the body. Merlin would comment about the "noble tradition" of killing defenseless animals for sport, and Arthur would call him a girl.

It hurt. But for some reason, Arthur kept returning for that ache.

This time, however, something went wrong.

It was nothing magical, or even all that extraordinary. But even the ordinary can be dangerous.

The boar he was hunting spooked, and Arthur was immediately the target of an angry charge. Knowing there was no way to outrun the boar, Arthur stayed calm, quickly aimed the crossbow, and pulled the trigger.

Only there was no soft twang, merely a jerk of the weapon as the arrow attempted to discharge and failed. The bow had jammed. The force meant to send the arrow flying forward instead radiated up Arthur's arms. And there was no time to dodge the rampaging boar or to draw his sword.

Arthur barely had time to register that this was a really stupid way for him to die and to close his eyes against his imminent death before the strange thing happened.

A skidding sound followed by some rather impressive squealing prompted Arthur to open his eyes again, only to see the same boar running full speed in the opposite direction.

Arthur, having fallen over, picked himself back up and looked around uncertainly, expecting to see an even bigger predator that had caused the boar to flee. But he saw nothing.

Confused, rubbing life back into his numb arm, Arthur picked up his dropped crossbow and slowly made his way back to the castle—eyes glancing uncertainly around him the entire time.

That was not the only strange instance, either.

It was a good half dozen odd occurrences later—each time Arthur coming out miraculously safe from a seemingly damning situation—that at last drew the king's suspicion. But it wasn't until two full weeks after the boar incident that his suspicions were confirmed.

This time, at least, the near-death experience had been slightly more befitting of a king—or so Arthur liked to tell himself. Rather than ducking his kingly duties for a solitary hunt and nearly getting mauled by a boar, he rode out with his trusted company of knights—including Gwiane, who had practically become Arthur's body guard, albeit a rather quiet body guard—to deal with a group of smugglers.

Their leader ran, of course. Making his move before the others could even realize what he was doing, Arthur kicked his horse forward and chased after him. What he didn't realize, however, was that this group had taken precautions as they traveled. Not long into the chase, Arthur's horse went down with a painful whinny. His boot caught in his stirrup as the animal fell. Unable to kick himself free in time, Arthur found his leg crushed underneath the great body.

The leader must have been expecting that, for barely moments later he reappeared in Arthur's blurry vision, knife in hand.

But the intended murderer did not even have time to raise his knife before he was flying through the air with a cry of alarm, smashed into a tree trunk, and slumped unconscious at the tree's base. Arthur, dizzy from pain, tried desperately to free himself from the horse who's complete lack of movement suggested she was probably dead.

And then the weight was gone, the horse's corpse pulled by some invisible force off of the king. The sudden release of pressure sent a new wave of pain through Arthur's leg, and he grit his teeth, closing his eyes tightly and hissing sharp intakes of breath.

Suddenly, he felt like his leg was plunged into an icy barrel of water, tiny prickles of pain like stabbing needles laced their way up clear into his waste. But then the needles faded and the ice dulled to a soothing coolness. It took him a moment to realize there was a hand on his leg.

Opening his eyes slowly, Arthur's blurry eyes took in the top of a bowed head of dark hair, as whoever it was traced a glowing hand along the injury.

Arthur gulped, his throat suddenly much tighter than his leg. All he could do was lay there in silence until at last the man finished his work. His head raised, and Arthur met a pair of hauntingly familiar blue eyes.

And just as soon, he was gone.

The knights found him not long after that, lying in the same position, leg fully healed.

When the numbness at last wore off, it was all Arthur could do to contain his joy. Merlin was alive! Oh how he had wanted to hope, but feared to hope. But Arthur had seen him. It had only been a glimpse, but it had been enough.

And then, gradually, a plan began to form.

He dare not tell his knights—especially Leon. They'd only try to stop him. And he dare not tell his councilors—that would be even more foolish. And he would never even dream of telling Guinevere. But for his plan to work, Arthur needed someone.

And ironically enough, the one person Arthur was most reluctant to go to for a favor was the only one he thought might just listen to him.

"Gwaine," he said, when he finally got up the courage to approach his self-appointed body guard. "I need your help."

**A/N: What's Arthur's plan? Will Gwaine help him? Stay tuned to find out! Muahaha! Although…in terms of my infamous cliffhangers, this is nowhere near the worst I've ever left you with.**

**In the meantime…Anyone still wondering what the heck happened to Merlin? Don't worry. All shall be revealed in due time. :)**

**TWO MORE DAYS UNTIL SEASON 5! EXCITEMENT!**

**~Syd**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I know, I know. This was supposed to be out last night before the premiere. Sorry everyone. I was all ready to update, but a friend of mine had a family crisis and I was with her all night, so updating was not exactly on the forefront of my mind. **

**So! Here it is! Fourth and final chapter. Hope you like it!**

**~Syd**

Chapter Four

"This is crazy," Gwaine repeated for the thousandth time. "What if he doesn't come? What if it wasn't even Merlin you saw?"

"It was." Arthur's answer was immediate and firm. "And he'll come."

"Why?" Gwaine argued. He didn't continue, but Arthur understood the unspoken addition to the question. _After everything you did…_

There was a long moment's silence as Gwaine continued his work, and Arthur merely stood there, brow furrowed as he stared at the ground. "Because he's a better man than me," he said at last.

Gwaine's hands briefly paused. "What will you do if he comes?"

There was another pained silence. "Beg his forgiveness," was the dark answer.

"King's don't beg."

"This one does." The answer was so instant that Gwaine couldn't help his eyes snapping to the monarch in surprise, but Arthur's head remained bowed. The knight studied him for a long moment, then finished tying the rope.

"I'll be hiding nearby in case this all goes wrong."

"No, you will not," Arthur stated firmly, eyes raising.

"Arthur, this is way too dangerous. He might not even know when you're in danger. This could have all been a huge coincidence."

Arthur shook his head firmly. "The smuggler incident was not the first time. He's been watching me. And he'll _know_ you're still here. He'll know I'm not really in danger."

"Tying yourself to a tree in the middle of a serket infested forest with only a long knight for protection? Still sounds pretty dangerous to me."

"It's not enough," Arthur countered. "And even if it was, I'm not letting you put yourself in danger for this. This was _my_ mistake. It's _my _responsibility to fix it. Not yours."

Gwaine stared again, eyes boring holes into the monarch who was currently tied tightly to a tree—no armor, no weapons. It was still an hour before sunset, but when the sun finally disappeared, the giant scorpion-like creatures would emerge. If Merlin didn't come, there was no chance Arthur would survive the night.

"Sometimes," Gwaine began, but stopped, and shook himself. "Sometimes I can see what Merlin saw in you."

Arthur smiled slightly. "Thank you," he said honestly. "That means a lot. Especially coming from you."

"Well," Gwaine said awkwardly. "I suppose I'll see you in the morning, then." He began to walk away, but Arthur's voice stopped him for a moment.

"Gwaine, if this doesn't…" he hesitated, then shut his eyes tight and forced the words out. "If I don't come back, please take care of Guinevere."

With a single nod, Gwaine was gone, and Arthur was left alone in the woods. Despite his assurances to Gwaine, the longer the hour stretched, the more nervous Arthur became. Guinevere was a single person—she could be looked after. But Camelot? What would happen to Camelot if her king did not return?

Merlin would come.

Merlin would come.

Those words became a silent chant in Arthur's head as the last of the sun's light finally dissolved into the grey of night, the moon and the stars vastly obscured by the trees.

The forest was calm for some time, as the day creatures settled down for the night, and the nocturnal beasts slowly began to stir.

Merlin would come.

It did not happen as immediately as Arthur had pictured. No swarm of serkets descended upon him the moment the sun left the sky. In fact, nothing descended upon him at all. With every passing moment Arthur's tension mounted. But as time passed, his tension gave way to frustration.

"Come on!" he shouted in anger. "I know you're out there! Come and find me!"

He wasn't even sure if he was talking to the serkets or to Merlin.

But when the brush at last rustled, he almost wished he'd held his tongue. The first of the giant scorpions emerged. It paused briefly at the sight of such a tasty treat so helpless, then scurried forward for the kill. Arthur clenched his teeth and shut his eyes as tightly as they would go. _Come on Merlin!_

An enraged hissing and a crash made Arthur open his eyes again—the serket now several feet away and just picking itself up from the ground. Arthur's mouth went paper dry. So Merlin was here after all. His heart thumped rapidly in his ribcage.

"M—Merlin," but the word was too soft and broken to be heard from any distance.

Another two serkets joined the first, and they all rushed at Arthur simultaneously, great stingers arched over their backs and ready to strike.

This time, Arthur forced his eyes to remain open—and sure enough, the creatures were thrust backwards by some great, invisible force.

They came in swarms after that. Arthur looked around frantically, but they lined every angle of his vision. Dozens of them. There was no pause this time. They simply threw themselves at their prey. Arthur braced himself. What if even Merlin couldn't defend against so many?

Then he was there. Later, Arthur could have sworn he went deaf throughout the short battle. He heard nothing but blood rushing in his ears. He could only see, as though in slow motion, the familiar dark-haired man thrust a hand forward and send some sort of pulse forward, blasting several of the scorpions backwards, before quickly turning and thrusting his second hand in the opposite direction. When he turned to take care of the serkets behind Arthur—out of his line of vision—Arthur caught a brief glimpse of eyes blazing gold and gulped at the sheer power that radiated from the man before him.

So it continued, all a blur until at last, all was still.

Merlin looked frantically around him, narrowed eyes searching all directions for more danger. When none appeared, he rounded on Arthur.

"Are you _insane!" _He demanded. "Tie yourself up as bait for the serkets, oh yes, that's a bloody _brilliant_ idea!" Arthur opened his mouth to speak but was cut off. "Do you know just how much work I've put in to keeping you alive? And you were just going to throw that all away! 'Nope, sorry Merlin, but I've decided to die today.' And why? All to bloody _talk _to me! Why didn't you just _look_ for me?"

"I did," Arthur finally managed to get those two words out, but Merlin didn't seem to hear.

"But _no._ Instead, you decide to have _Gwaine_ tie you up and leave you in mortal danger. Which, I might add, I'm going to bloody _kill_ him, too. Why he agreed to this is beyond me. I thought you _both_ had more sense than this! But the two of you have reached a new level of stupidity in the time I've been gone."

"I _did_ look for you," Arthur interrupted again, this time much more firmly. Merlin stilled, the fire instantly going out of him.

"You…you did?"

It was strange, really, for a man who had just displayed such amazing power, to now look so hesitant and unsure of himself. Even Merlin's stance was uncertain, knees bent slightly as though ready to bolt.

"We searched for weeks," Arthur informed him, a lump growing solidly in his throat. "But you were _nowhere. _I thought…maybe you didn't want to be found."

Merlin stared at Arthur for a long time, throat moving as though working up the courage to speak, but his mouth stayed stubbornly shut. He stood stock still as his options played through his head.

"I…was with the druids," he said at last. "They found me after I fought off the mercenaries and kept me hidden. I was in a coma for two months."

Arthur's eyes widened. "_Two months?" _he repeated.

Merlin nodded with his lips pressed in a thin line, the corners of his mouth turned white. "That's what you get when you force your magic passed a dampening potion on such a large scale."

Arthur's felt his tongue stick in his dry mouth. So all that devastation they'd seen…It _had_ been Merlin. "We saw the aftermath of the battle," he said at last, picturing the blackened craters again, trying to fit together the missing pieces. "But we couldn't find any bodies."

"The druids built a pyre and burned them," Merlin explained. "At least, that's what they told me. Life is life, and death is death. It didn't matter who they were or what they'd done, not to the druids."

"So…" Arthur began, processing this new information. "All that time, when we couldn't find you…you weren't hiding from us—from _me."_ Slowly, Merlin shook his head. "You were unconscious the entire time."

Merlin hesitated again. "And…and if you'd found me," he said slowly, "What would you have said?"

And the words that Arthur had been so ready to say stuck in his throat. He opened his mouth to speak but no sound emerged. There was so much he needed to say—so much he _had_ to say—but none of it seemed good enough, now. A heartfelt apology, begging for forgiveness, a _thank you._ Such words seemed meaningless.

"Come home," was what finally emerged.

Merlin started at that. "Home?" he repeated, as though he had heard incorrectly. "You…you'd let me?"

"I'm sorry Merlin. I am so, _so_ sorry. I know now what you were doing—what you've _been _doing. And I left you to die. I can't tell you how much I…." but his voice caught, and he couldn't complete the words. "Please, Merlin."

"But I lied to you," Merlin answered, still not quite processing what was happening. "For _years_ I've lied to you."

"I never gave you a chance to tell me the truth."

"Arthur…" That whispered name, not heard uttered by that voice for months now, nearly broke the king. "You don't know what I've done. All the mistakes I've made…"

"Yes, actually," Arthur answered. "I do." Merlin's eyes widened, but then he sadly shook his head, clearly not believing the king. "Gaius has told me a lot since you've been gone, Merlin," Arthur explained. "I know about the dragon, and about Balinore. I know about everything that happened between you and Morgana. _You_ told me you killed my father, though now I know exactly how and why that happened, too."

Merlin's face turned white at the listing of what he considered his greatest failings. "Can you really forgive me?" he asked numbly. "Can you really forgive me for everything I've done?"

It was then that Arthur realized his mistake. He'd assumed that Merlin had stayed away out of anger—that he had hated Arthur as much as the king now hated himself for believing the lies of Merlin's betrayal, for turning his back on his friend. But Merlin felt _guilty._

"Merlin…there's nothing to forgive."

His eyes widened in surprise, but then darkened again. "Yes, Arthur, there is."

"Fine!" Arthur shouted, starting to grow annoyed. "Then I forgive you! But you forget the fact that I completely and utterly _betrayed you!_ Not to mention the fact that I brushed off your father's death like it was nothing, _killed_ the woman you loved, and all along have been completely oblivious to every pain you've ever suffered!"

Merlin shook his head. "None of that was your fault."

Arthur groaned his frustration. "_Why don't you hate me!"_ he demanded at last. He didn't understand.

"You're my friend, Arthur," Merlin responded, as though that were obvious. "Or…at least you were. Are you?"

And Arthur wilted again. He still hadn't received an answer. "But can you ever forgive _me_?"

"Oh Arthur," Merlin's response sounded more like a response to a small toddler than to a king. "Don't you get it? I already have."

And Arthur couldn't help his relief bubbling up in a laugh that sounded quite properly insane. "Then yes, _yes!_ Come home. I swear to never betray you again, my friend."

Merlin actually dropped to his knees in the weightiness of his relief, silent tears pouring from his eyes. He covered his face in his hands and took several deep breaths, trying to regain himself.

"Um…Merlin?" Arthur asked again.

Merlin lowered his hands and raised his eyebrows questioningly.

"Can you untie me now?"

And Merlin laughed. With a flash of his eyes, Arthur's ropes fell to the ground. The first thing the king did was rub life back into his arms, the second was pull his friend into a hug.

**The End**

**A/N: Yay! Complete. So, whatcha think? Hope it lived up to your expectations. There are still a couple other things I was hoping to include, but they just never made it in, considering this fic has already doubled from its originally intended length, but I think I like the way it turned out. I'd love reviews, as always. So please let me know what you thought!**

**Thanks for reading, everyone!**

**~Syd **


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